


Inheritance

by someonenotyou, sunnyheartthyself (someonenotyou)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonenotyou/pseuds/someonenotyou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonenotyou/pseuds/sunnyheartthyself
Summary: Megatron only wishes to raise his son, Sunstreaker, with care, support, and discipline. Buthis past cannot be kept hidden forever, especially when a supposed transient caughttrespassing into Kaon threatens to unearth all his secrets. And toss in the impatient Vosnianprince Starscream and his brothers, and there's a recipe for a crisis that could throw thewhole world of Cybertron into disarray. Transformers slight knight!formers AU.Yes, it's me. Yes, it's back. Edited, rewritten, and back.
Relationships: Jazz/Sideswipe, Megatron/Optimus Prime, Prowl/Starscream, Prowl/Sunstreaker, Sunstreaker/Thundercracker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Worlds Torn Apart

If Cybertron was a seasonless planet, Kaon was the seat of its most turgid and everlasting storms.

The skies swirled in never ending chaos, with glimpses of lightning flickering between the seams of the clouds now and again. It would not rain on this orn, which was a blessing on any given orn at all. It allowed Lord Megatron to stand at one of Darkmount’s balconies, unworried about acid rain tearing through his thick armor.

His huge, dark countenance was contrasted by that of another, a smaller mech gleaming with a golden plate finish upon his handsome and slender frame. This mech stood waiting at the rail, his expression much more neutral than that of Megatron’s, which was starting to twist into a slight scowl that was reserved only for when he had something to say but didn’t want to say it.

Which was not often, the smaller mech knew. It seemed to be reserved mostly for him. Out of all the bots that Megatron came into contact with every orn, only _his_ reactions to Megatron seemed to matter.

Megatron’s vents draught in a heavy pull of air before his gaze turned to the pits of active metal below. They glowed orange with heat, and would never cool. “Sunstreaker,” Megatron’s gravelly voice started. “You know the story of the origins of all life on Cybertron, do you not?”

“Of course, father,” Sunstreaker said. His voice was cool and clear, much unlike his father’s. “The first spark joined with the first protoform that crawled its way from the very pits below us, as Primus deemed it.”

“Not only that, but it was a _Kaonian_ that was the first protoform. We were strength and horrible, right from the start. Terrifying, and ready to claw our existence from the raw metal about us. From those first protoforms came our race, and from our race came all other races,” Megatron let out a vent and turned to face his son. “A truth that all of Cybertron would like to deny, but we must never forget.”

Sunstreaker gave a nod. He’d heard this story countless times before. As a sparkling, as a youngling, and now, as he was fully formed. He knew of Kaon’s history as his family’s history. His small family, his father and he, as they were all that was left, now. But it was a history he had learned to be proud of. “I would never forget, father.”

Megatron gave a small smile. Sunstreaker could tell that something weighed heavy on his spark, and that he was going to tell him something that he did not like.

“Whatever it is that you must say, father, even if I do not like it, I understand that it is a decision made for the good of Kaon,” Sunstreaker said. “And for myself, if it involves me.”

A chuckle rumbled from within Megatron’s mighty chassis. “You know me so well, my son. Indeed…I do have something to say that you will not like. I have held off speaking of it for a long while because I do not wish to visit unpleasantness upon you.”

“Father,” Sunstreaker gave one of his rare smirks, or attempts at it. He was a contemplative mech, and often did not expose his true emotions through his faceplates. “Am I not built for combat? Am I not built to handle the worst of warriors that Kaon has birthed? Should I not be strong enough to face whatever unpleasantness comes my way? I have lived my life without my carrier, in our family, despite all that this world has thrown at us. Threats of war, broken treaties, and even Iacon itself breathing heavy upon our nation?”

Megatron rumbled a bit in surprise and disapproval. “It does not do to boast of one’s skills so, especially when untested.”

“Untested?”

“Besides, what I have to say has nothing to do with the matters of your frame and the powers it affords you. It has to do with matters of the spark.”

Whatever trace of a smirk that remained on Sunstreaker’s faceplates eased away uncomfortably. “Of the spark?” His optics turned away, in towards Darkmount. He tried to appear as if he were trying to guess at what Megatron was implying, but truthfully, his processors were racing. Did Megatron know? How could he have known? They had been…so careful…

“After your carrier…left us, I had spoken to a few of our allies’ leaders. There was a small sense of urgency, at least, on my part, to secure something…especially after the Separatist attacks in Vos. Then, Iacon and its allies became closed to us…”

Sunstreaker frowned, his optics turning to his father. “What…exactly are you speaking of?”

Megatron huffed and turned his gaze back to the skies above. “I had secured a betrothal agreement for you, while you were still within your sparklinghood…”

“A…betrothal?” Sunstreaker scoffed. “You cannot be serious.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge and turned to look upon his son. “Why would I not be serious?”

“Betrothal? An…arranged bond? Surely you would trust me to find my own bondmate…”

“Would I? You have shown no interest in mech or femme. Besides…it is important that our line continue, Sunstreaker. We must continue to secure the throne of Darkmount…after all, I will not exist forever. I was an ancient mech before you were sparked, and am even more ancient now. Soon you will be reigning Lord of Kaon. And then? I must ensure that Kaon is not thrust into chaos…”

“On that I agree, father, but…allow me to find my own bondmate! Someone I deem worthy.”

“And who would you choose? You are quite the solitary mech, Sunstreaker. Aside from myself, your attendants, the Vosnians, and your trainer, you do not meet many bots. You enjoy quiet pasttimes, aside from sport. And…I cannot allow for any bond to occur in which there may be a dispute of a sparkling’s lineage…”

Sunstreaker balked. “If it is such an urgent manner, father, I will begin to look! I do not wish to…commit to a bond where I will be unhappy!”

“Do you think I would force that upon you? All that is required is some amicability. Besides…” Megatron’s face changed to something that Sunstreaker could not read. Something between resignation and anger. “Love does not a happy bond make.”

“Do not use your own failed bond as a reason to impose a bond upon me!”

A slight scowl formed on Megatron’s faceplates. “You will see to this bot, Sunstreaker. If not for my hand in this agreement, but for our allies. We will discuss ‘like’ and ‘love’ after.”

“Father…”

“Do you understand?” Megatron’s vocoder rumbled on the edge of a roar. Sunstreaker knew where he could press his father, and where he could not. In this matter, he was without the ability to argue further. At least, not now. There could be a chance to speak it over again, but that chance would not come until Sunstreaker had met this bot. That much he knew.

He met his father’s optics in plain defiance. “Yes. I understand….My Lord.”

Megatron’s lip curled, but he reminded himself that Sunstreaker was barely in his final form, and behaviors of his younglinghood were sure to carry over. Sunstreaker hadn’t been an openly defiant youngling, however, he had his ways of making his defiance known.

“I will leave you to ready yourself for our allies’ arrivals. The games draw near. With them comes my official announcement of you as my heir. It is an important time for us both.” One of his hands came down on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Sunstreaker softened a bit, but not by much. Anger still clouded his processor. “The future of Kaon is upon us both.”

Sunstreaker gave a nod. Megatron clasped his hands behind his back, causing his ornately embroidered, organic cape to flare out slightly. Sunstreaker waited as he left, and even then, could not force himself to move from the spot. His hands clenched and unclenched as his spark felt as if it had hollowed out, and had dragged half of his internals with it.

Betrothal?

What was he going to do?

What were _they_ going to do?

……

Megatron worried on the discussion as the lift carried him down to the levels of Darkmount that were designated specifically for his government. He’d passed servants preparing the residential levels for Kaon’s guests for the games. They were so busy in their tasks that they hardly noticed him. It had pleased him to see Kaon in such a efficient manner, even in Darkmount.

It had taken a long time to turn this unwanted spit of land and the bots who lived there into a nation worth recognizing. He’d fought his way from the pits of slavery to the top, and created order from literal chaos. And he’d done so without ruining the culture of Kaon, the people, or creating further hardship.

Few mecha alive could remember Kaon as what it once was, but rumors persisted. Those younger than he turned those rumors into folklore. Kaon was the place where spilled energon painted the streets. It was a place where mecha ate their own, and feasted on the sparks of outsiders. Kaon was a place where bad sparklings were sent as punishment.

In comparison to Iacon, it was no delight. But it was clean, its citizens did not want for much, and all knew their place, as they fought for it and won it with their own history.

Megatron entered a room that was dark save for the colorful holo-screens projected here and there as attendants worked upon various plans and schematics. Optics and visors pierced the darkness, red and purple, and unconcerned for Megatron’s arrival save for a few nods in his direction. It was not in disrespect…they had a job to do, and Megatron would rather see them working than paying him meaningless respects.

At the center of the room rested a large table with a surface that displayed the glowing schematics of a nearly finished arena. About the table sat Megatron’s most trusted advisors, Soundwave and Shockwave, who waited for their Lord with emotionless patience. Megatron took a seat at the head of the table and began discussing the plans of the games…the fifth he’d headed personally.

Gladiator fights used to be a tradition throughout Cybertron, and then it had become solely a Kaon tradition. After Kaon became unified, it was the only nation that held official games, and most of the gladiators were Kaonians. There would be an odd Vosnian or citizen of Tarn, but other than that, citizens of other allies were merely spectators, if present at all. The ally nations of Iacon turned up their olfactory processors at the tradition, and viewing the games had become officially outlawed after the Separatist attacks.

It didn’t matter who did or did not attend to Megatron. The games were merely a tool to keep Kaon happy. It was a part of their culture, and a reminder of their origins.

It was a few hours later that the doors to the room opened and a single attendant entered. No one paid them much mind until they shuffled almost timidly to the table, between Soundwave and Megatron, and waited to be acknowledge. Soundwave and Shockwave turned their silent stares to the attendant, who took a step backward.

“If you have something to say,” Megatron said. “Say it or find someone to say it for you.”

The discipline of the room was so taught that not a bot sniggered or otherwise interrupted their work to acknowledge the quip.

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” the attendant drew in air and held forth a datapad. He tried his best not to let his plating rattle as he did so. “I have received a security report from the border. There has been an arrest of an Iaconian alien.”

“Then have whatever is left of the idiot collected and have it sent to Iacon. It is hardly my concern.” And it wasn’t. Sometimes a curious Iaconian or other likewise idiotic outsider made their way across the rust desert to try to breach the Kaon border. Usually they were young idiots with too much time and money on their hands, and not enough sense in their processors.

Kaon was an unforgiving place, and anyone who wished to be in Kaon needed to prove their worth.

“Concern: mine,” Soundwave said. He received a wave of dismissal and rose to take the datapad from the attendant. His visor grazed over the information, then looked to the attendant. “Information: Where was it obtained?”

“I…intercepted it from a standard feed, sir.”

Soundwave turned his gaze to the Megatron. “Emergency: at border. Situation: requires Lord Megatron’s attention.”

“One Iaconian is hardly an emergency,” Megatron said, almost irritated.

“Mech at border: your son.”

A single sharp finger hovered over the controls, and finally those deep purple optics turned from the displays and plans to look upon the two. “My son?”

Soundwave held out the datapad. “Affirmative. Mech at border: your son.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Worlds in Chaos

Megatron frowned. He’d just seen Sunstreaker, and even with the fasted os Kaon’s flyers, he could not have reached the border this quickly. He knew that the mech referred to on that datapad was not _his_ son.

Shockwave stood. “The situation is anticipated, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron grabbed up the datapad and quickly read the contents. He rose from his seat, exposing his full height, and looked out upon the room. The attendants were still working, but that did not mean they could not hear. “You are all dismissed. Now!”

The bots quickly got up and left, their hurry so quiet and swift that they hardly disturbed the ambience of the room. Only the three mechs remained, with the smaller attendant cowering somewhat in their presence.

“This situation has been anticipated, My Lord,” Shockwave said, circling the table. One clawed hand came down upon the attendant’s shoulder. The grip held him firmly in place, and the attendant did not even think to squirm under the grasp. “I have enacted protocols in case it were to be actualized. The mech is still functioning, and is en route.”

Megatron turned his optics to Shockwave, then down to the attendant. “I assume this task has been undertaken with the highest of discretion.”

“Of course, My Lord. All who were present have been arrested and have also been transported. They will arrive for Soundwave’s own memory cleansing procedures.”

Megatron drew in air, and the attendant swore he could feel the pull of a slight breeze as the vents worked. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention. Pray, what is your designation?”

“Meister, My Lord.”

“Meister: under my employ,” Soundwave said.

“Ensure that he, also, is included in your cleanse,” Shockwave said. He shoved the attendant forward so that he practically stumbled into Soundwave’s form. Soundwave nodded and took up the attendant’s wrist, encasing it in a binder. The attendant found his protests dying in his throat as his movements were canceled, and he was at Soundwave’s bidding.

The two remaining mechs watched as Soundwave took the attendant away. “Hook?”

“Has been informed, My Lord.”

“Good. See this through until the mech’s arrival.” The purple of Megatron’s optics darkened. “I will need the old codes. And…the location of my son.”

“Sunstreaker is in his studio, My Lord.”

“Is he…aware?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Good. Keep me apprised. You are dismissed.”

Shockwave hesitated but a klik, but then bowed and exited the room, leaving Megatron amongst his plans, his dark frame aglow with the reflections of the running holo-displays.

“So it seems that the past has indeed come to meet me…and here I am, ill-prepared.”

….

Having to take trips by shuttle were the most boring of trips, and their length was made even more arduous by the fact that they were usually made to Iacon, and thus, were highly anticipated.

Thundercracker preferred to fly without assistance to wherever they were going. It was in his nature, after all, as a seeker frame. His wings ached for the sky when he was not in Vos, where there were hardly any walkways or streets. In Kaon, it usually rained, and the harder platings of the shuttle builds were able to take the punishment without too much damage.

He should hate going there. He thought of this from his seat within the shuttle, as he looked upon his brothers. Skywarp was oblivious, as he was just a youngling, but Starscream met his gaze with raised optic ridges. _He is thinking about what I am thinking. He knows every thought of mine before I think it. And yet, I can never anticipate him._

These trips were made for Starscream’s benefit. And for Vos, or so Starscream had said many times before. Kaon was their most powerful ally. And once Starscream was bonded to Lord Megatron – _that ancient and grumpy mech, who knows what Starscream sees in him_ – their nations would be even more powerful.l

Thundercracker vented a sigh and rolled his optics away from his brother’s. In the early days, he’d hated seeing his brother fawn and practically mewl at Megatron’s pedes to get in his good graces. He had been barely a sparkling himself, then, but even he knew that his brother’s antics were ridiculous.

Megatron had wanted nothing to do with the Vosnian prince. Until the games.

That didn’t matter. What mattered to Thundercracker was only one thing. One person. He told himself that as soon as this trip was over, he’d be happy again. He’d not have to busy himself with Kingsguard training…training for a position he never intended to take. His optics turned back to Starscream, who was now boredly checking the sheen of his finger plating. _If Starscream ever made it to be crowned king…_

Their mothers had enacted a law – before Starscream was ever sparked – that one must be bonded or even trined before they could be crowned king. Or queen. This had been in attempt to further the need for allies, especially more powerful allies, in a nation that was historically secluded. Starscream had been promised in bond at his separation.

Lord Prowl. If there had ever been a mech perfect for his brother, Lord Prowl had been it. But Lord Prowl was reigning lord of Praxus during the attacks…and the Separatists had been Praxian. Even though his rule had been through regent, Lord Prowl did not denounce the attacks.

This boded badly for the future bond, as the attacks had killed the Vosnian queens.

Starscream was conniving, but not a complete idiot. He knew he would never be supported as king with a Praxian bondmate, with or without that denouncement. Other royal families clawed too close for comfort following the vorns after the attacks, so Starscream had fled to Kaon.

And so, here they were. Making another trip to Kaon, where Starscream was no closer to securing a bond than Thundercracker was to freedom.

Sometimes he wished those other families had staged a coup. But Vosnian nobility was famous for not wishing to get their hands dirty if not needed. Starscream’s rule had been, thus far…pretty good. Vos was far from perfect, but there were no drastic changes from their mothers’ rule to Starscream’s. Everyone was content.

Except Thundercracker.

Royalty did not suit him. He was stuck in-between…as a prince, he was afforded luxuries but not freedoms. But he was not the crown prince, and thus, his importance was only predicated on if Starscream should deactivate. He was the back-up. The maybe.

He had few choices. Wait until Starscream bonded and appointed a bond to him. Or, join the Kingsguard, where he would not be afforded a bond at all. Ever.

Neither of those appealed to him, but removing Starscream’s choice was all he could do.

He thought of this every time they approached Kaon. Secret anxieties that burned in his processor, secret anxieties that he tried to push away so that he could be present in the moment with his lover.

His love.

A smile threatened to mar his faceplates. They’d been good at keeping it a secret, thus far. He could not ruin it now. Not when he was so close to Starscream, who could reach out and smack that smile off his face with a flick of his wrist, if he wanted.

He liked to think of their love as an accident. He’d not been afforded many bots to associate with as he grew up, and with his final upgrades came…urges he could not dispel. The same had been for _him_. They were already friends. They’d played together, as younglings. They trained together. Talked about things. Shared their secrets.

And then, on one of their visits, after he’d been upgraded, Thundercracker visited him. He’d been upgraded too. They were no longer younglings. And there he was. Sitting in his room, his frame gleaming with gold plate, the finials on his helm catching the light just so. He’d grown handsome. Those optics had never looked so blue.

_”Hello, Thundercracker…”_

He hadn’t missed how _he’d_ looked him over as well. His voice was deeper now, but clear. Cool and inviting.

It would take a few orn to muster up the courage to touch. Fingertips on a wing. A palm on a thigh.

Lips upon lips.

It had just been exploring. Something to do, when bored. But then they _missed_ each other. Began writing to each other when Thundercracker was away. Thundercracker’s spark yearned when they were not together.

"_This can’t last, Thunder.”_

_“Whyever not?”_

_“One day you will be bonded, or I will be bonded. These affairs never end kindly for the likes of us.”_

_“I could not think of anyone I would bond to…aside from you.”_

_“Do you really think that Starscream would let that happen?”_

The shuttle slowed, and then came in for a landing. Thundercracker needn’t look out the window to see that they had arrived in Kaon. Skywarp, who had been busy playing with his toys, suddenly perked up and rushed to the window. The shuttle landing never got old for him. “We’re here, Screamie! We’re here!”

Starscream vented a soft sigh. “Yes, we are. And please, Skywarp, mind your manners. Call me ‘brother’ or ‘Starscream’ in public.”

“Are you afraid to be seen as the doting, loving surrogate parent that you are in front of Megatron, Starscream?” Thundercracker barbed. He knew he shouldn’t, as Starscream always came back with something a hundred times worse, but he couldn’t help it.

Starscream gave a pleasant smile that signaled that he was about to say something that was anything but pleasant. “Please be sure to give my kindest regards to your dearest Sunstreaker, Thunder.”

Thundercracker willed his faceplates not to fall, but Starscream knew when he had him where he wanted him. He said nothing as his brother stood to disembark. Right before he stepped out of the shuttle, he turned to Thundercracker, obviously not done with him yet. “And be sure to ask him about his newly betrothed.”

Thundercracker felt his lines run cold, but Starscream had already laughed and sauntered down the stairs to the landing pad below. Skywarp looked to Thundercracker, but his brother did not see him, so he galloped gleefully out, where Thundercracker could hear the shuttles of the attendants and Kingsguard landing as well.

_How did he know?_

Of course he knew.

Of course.

……

He had to say something to Megatron.

That was the only way to stop this…betrothal nonsense. He had to bring up that he had a sparkmate. He had to confess to his father that he had been seeing someone…and that his relationship could throw his alliance with Vos into shambles.

Sunstreaker winced despite himself as his attendants worked to bringing his plating to an immaculate shine. He stood there numbly as his purple cape was affixed to his shoulders, and as parts of his plating was replaced with ceremonial pieces. His arm lifted of its own accord to allow an attendant to affix his greatsword hilt to his hip. He looked much the young Lord in the mirror, but his faceplates, delicately handsome as they were, lay neutrally sorrowful.

They remained so as he left his rooms to take his place at the side of his father’s throne in the great hall as they welcomed the families of Kaon’s allied nations. Megatron may have looked at him, but he did not look up at him or say anything. His spark still felt like it was going to collapse upon itself. His sensors seemed dull to him. Sound was muffled to him, and it could have been anyone’s guess that his sparksoul had left him a hollow, unthinking thing.

But he had known this day would come. He had known he was playing a dangerous game. He hadn’t planned to fall in love, though. And now…

“Their Royal Highnesses, the Princes of Vos!”

Sunstreaker raised his optics to the doors of the great hall. He ignored the rest of the room…the nobles and families of other nations, the guards, the attendants. They all waited patiently for the display that was soon to come. And come it did.

The doors opened, and in strode Prince Starscream himself. The mech’s slender seeker frame gleamed red, his wings a sleek silver. Upon his brow was his gold crown, and behind him trailed a blue cape that seemed to be made of liquid, it was so fine in its construction. The Prince gave a small bow, then moved aside as rows of Vosnian attendants came forward, each carrying gifts of Vosnian high grade and delicacies. The crowd voiced their awe in the sight of the gifts, as Vosnian trade was expensive. The attendants laid the gifts at Megatron’s pedes before clearing away for the Prince to ascend the steps to the throne.

He did not bow to Lord Megatron, as his status trumped Megatron’s own. Instead, he flashed that delicious smile of his, and extended one hand. “Lord Megatron.”

  
Megatron stood, and as always, took up Starscream’s hand to press a kiss to it.

Sunstreaker looked away. He hated Starscream’s displays, and his entitled demeanor towards his father. But if he looked away, Sunstreaker had nowhere else to look than the others entering the room. Other attendants. Starscream’s own royal guard. And…Starscream’s brothers.

The youngling bounded up to the steps with unchecked energy. Painted black and purple with a little silver cape to match, this little mech almost reached beyond his boundaries and climbed the steps, but then he remembered his place and came to a very fidgety stance of attention. His red optics caught Sunstreaker’s. He gave a wave. The crowd chuckled at that.

Sunstreaker smiled. He couldn’t help it. Skywarp, as the little one was called, had always been a rambunctious bot. His antics often brought joy to the empty halls of Darkmount.

Behind Skywarp, though, was another mech. Upon seeing him, it was as if the rest of the world fell away from Sunstreaker, and all that existed was this mech and this mech alone. He was a seeker build like Starscream, but in Sunstreaker’s optics, that was where the similarities ended. His blue and silver frame gleamed with lines that were not so much slender as they were robust yet slim, as if hiding power within that could easily be underestimated. A calm expression was upon his faceplates, which were not handsome in the traditional sense, but that did not matter to Sunstreaker.

He'd spent countless hours tracing the rugged lines of that face with his fingertips. With his lips. His optics rested on Thundercracker’s lips, and he imagined all the times he’d kissed them, all the times his tongue had played upon the other’s. How many times those lips had kissed his neck, his arms, between his legs…

The mech approached, his form trailing silver cape as well. His wings gleamed, broad and strong. His hands were clasped behind him as he came to a stop at the steps.

His red optics rose to meet Sunstreaker’s, and Sunstreaker felt both the renewing of the pain within him, as well as a flush within his systems as his sensors alighted under his plating. He found he had been holding his ventilations, and a quirk of the blue Vosnian’s lips showed that he had caught the movement.

Thundercracker.

To the pit with his father’s wishes.

Sunstreaker mouthed a single word to the Vosnian Prince.

_Tonight_.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Worlds Afire

“He is right this way, My Lord,” Hook said, motioning towards an examination room with closed doors. “I thought discretion was best. I must warn you, My Lord…he is damaged.”

Megatron gave a grunt. He’d found a way to get away from the great hall, which was no easy feat, during the middle of the dinner. It was just a great mass of bots talking to each other as energon was poured, most of it Vosnian, so as soon as he had a chance, he slipped away, telling the servants to say that he was only gone momentarily. He would be back soon.

“Thank you, Hook. The discretion is appreciated.” He nodded for Hook to open the door, and then he was shown into the room where the lights were dimmed, and various machines beeped to signify that something was alive in there.

On the examination berth lay a mech with a familiar slender frame, a frame that had seen better days. What once was a polished red, silver, and black frame was marred and cracked here and there. Wires were hooked up to the frame, in between plates and in places where plating had been removed. For the most part, though, the frame appeared to be in repair, save for the right arm…which was completely severed from the body.

It was apparent that Hook was working on fixing it so it could be reattached.

“The clinic made small repairs. I was going to get started on surgery before I heard you were coming down,” Hook said. He shook his head and looked over at Megatron. The Kaon Lord stood with his optics fixated on the faceplates of the form before him.

“Is it him?” Megatron said after a few moments. He turned his red optics up to Hook. “Is this my son?”

“It is,” Hook said. He motioned to the monitor. “I checked several times. The CAN matches perfectly not only to yours, but to that of his carrier and brother. It’s…it’s Sideswipe.”

Megatron went to the examination table and reached out one hand to delicately touch the cheek seam of the mech’s faceplates. They were almost exact to Sunstreaker’s. In fact, it was obvious that this form was almost identical. The shape was the same, sure, although both had made some alterations. No finals on this form. Reinforcements along the wrists. A different helm.

Megatron growled low in his vocoder. “What was he thinking, coming to Kaon in such a way? He could have been deactivated…did he say anything to you?”

“No, My Lord. He has been kept in stasis since before he arrived. Do you wish me to wake him?”

“No, no,” Megatron removed his hand and straightened. He turned his attention to the doctor. “I do not want him in any unnecessary pain. Allow him to heal as much as possible before waking him. Do not allow anyone else to enter here without my express permission. I will post guards.”

Hook bowed. “Yes, my lord. I shall notify you if anything should change.”

Megatron gave a nod and, with giving the mech on the table one last look, left Hook to carry out the repairs.

He took the lift back up the many levels of Darkmount, straight to the very top level that was reserved for his own personal apartments and offices. A holographic display projected forward, and he input a code, the code only he knew, to enter. The display disappeared and the door opened to a giant room. It was stark and cold, with wall to ceiling windows that continued to peaked skylights above on the two flanking walls. A giant desk stood at the center of the room, with a purple carpet leading up to it. Behind the desk was a lavish tonal mosaic-work depicting Megatron’s victories in battle, as well as the unification of Kaon.

It was easily five stories tall. Mural Megatron’s mighty hands drove a broadsword into the ground of Kaon, and figures of Kaonians rejoiced about him in depictions of might and power. But the most brilliant part was the glowing blue crystal at the center of Megatron’s chest, sparkling with a light source unseen.

Megatron looked over the mural, with his optics hesitating on glowing crystal. He grumbled in his vocoder and made for the desk, where he sat and stared at the inactive display for a long while.

Venting a sigh, he entered a few numbers he’d all but forgot. He hesitated before sending the request but…knew there was no way around this. He sent it and waited, but did not have to wait long. A few breems. But then the display activated, and…there he was.

“Megatron,” came a softer, yet still gravelly voice. “I…was not expecting your call his orn.”

Expecting? _Expecting_? Megatron tried not to give a cruel laugh. At no point would Optimus ever expect a call from him, and vice versa. They had given up that charade long ago. “You were to tell me if anything happened,” Megatron said, his red optics meeting Optimus’s blue ones. “Anything at all. We agreed upon that, at least!”

Optimus’s optics dimmed slightly. “I take it that you have heard…that Sideswipe is missing. I did not wish to come to you until I knew more of the situation, Megatron. He is often prone to taking long and impromptu trips with his friends. I did not want to interrupt you if he should turn up.”

“If the matters concern my _son_, then you should, by all means, interrupt me!” Megatron scowled, the points of his sharpened dentae showing.

“I apologize. He went missing two orn ago. I had only learned recently that his friends were not with him. I don’t know where he went. I am prepared to contact Separatist cells to see if they are responsible…”

“You needn’t do so, Optimus,” Megatron said. He huffed out his anger and sat back in his seat. He motioned with his hand. “He is here.”

Optimus’s optics widened, brightened. “He is…?” And there it was. Optimus came undone, if for a brief moment. His optics darted back and forth, slightly, briefly. His lip components parted, and for a moment, that regal demeanor fell away to that naivety that Megatron knew so well, the naivety that revealed Optimus’s youth and foolhardy optimism.

Megatron felt his spark soften at the sight of it. Optimus’s optics met his once more. “Is he safe?”

“He was caught at the border. He is damaged and is being repaired.”

“I will…go immediately…”

“No.”

Optimus paused. “I’m sorry?”

“You will stay where you are, Optimus. The first time I have seen my son in many vorn, and he is damaged. You promised me you would keep him safe, as I have kept Sunstreaker safe. He could have been killed!”

“Megatron, you will return my son to me…”

“When he is repaired,” Megatron said flatly. “And after…after I discuss this with Sunstreaker. With them both. We have put this off for a long time, Optimus. It is time they know each other.”

“Then let me come there to help you.”

“No. You made many promises to me, Optimus. And most of them, you have not kept. It is enough that our alliance, our _bond_ has suffered, but now, we must let this play out as it may. You promised to keep him safe, and you broke that promise. He is here, he is safe, and he will be returned to you.” He paused. He saw that righteous furty begin to brew behind Optimus’s optics. Optimus was not immune to anger, despite his usual calm demeanor. “Give me this, Optimus. Let me have my son, just for a little while. Let Sunstreaker have his brother.”

Optimus pressed his lip plates together, but Megatron knew he was going to concede. “Very well. I will contact you tomorrow. Please…just let him contact me when he is able.”

“Agreed.”

“Megatron…I…”

“Goodbye, Optimus,” Megatron reached over and severed the connection. The screen went blank, cutting away Optimus’s visage, and the forelorn expression he managed to sneak in before the communication felt through.

Megatron released a vent and sat back in his chair. “Goodbye.”

….

Thundercracker searched the crowd, while trying not to look like he was searching the crowd. After a bit of nosing about and avoiding chatter with the likes of nobility from Tyger Pax and Tyrest, he began to wonder why he bothered. _If Starscream knew, then soon Megatron would soon know._

He thought he spied a flash of gold from beyond a throng of Kaonians talking excitedly about the upcoming games – all those who entered their designations for the games were given special priviledges beforehand, and some were here – before his view was blocked by a large and…confusing chassis.

Thundercracker looked up into the red optics of the mech, whose large hand held a cube of Vosnian high grade. The cube was so small in his hand that the effect was almost comical…almost if the mech wasn’t about as bit as Megatron, and sporting bits and bobs here and there that signified that he had more than one alt-mode.

Thundercracker knew who he was, of course. There was no mistaking the imposing form of Tarn, the leader of the nation Tarn.

“Hello,” the mech said. “Prince Thundercracker, is it not?”

“Yes,” Thundercracker waited as the mech gave a bow. Or attempted to. Even in the motion, he was taller than Thundercracker, and the motion seemed ill-served. Thundercracker tried not to vent a sigh and extended his hand in formal greeting…only to have his hand taken up and a kiss pressed to the back of his fingers.

Thundercracker flushed. It was not common for those outside of Vosnian subjects to give him such a greeting. It was something Starscream and Megatron did, of course, but…that was _different_.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” the mech said. “I was not going to attend these games, however, I felt it would be…rude not to. Considering.”

“Considering?” Thundercracker tried not to pull his hand back as if he were trying to quickly reclaim the appendage.

“Lord Megatron’s official announcement of Lord Sunstreaker as his heir, of course.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. If you’ll…”

“The games are quite prestigious, you know. A pinnacle of culture, at least, in the optics of a Kaonian. I, myself, prefer much more…refined cultural displays. That of the Vosnian type has always been a favorite, not to mention, Vosnian high grade.”

A sliver of gold was visible from beyond the crowd. Thundercracker squinted, but he couldn’t tell the form of the bot. “Yes, it does have its merits…”

“Do you partake in any Vosnian artistry?”

“Um…no,” Thundercracker looked up into Tarn’s optics. “I’m not very…artistically inclined. Have you seen Lord Sunstreaker?”

“Oh, yes, Lord Sunstreaker. I heard a rumor that he has his own secret gallery…”

“So…you haven’t seen him.”

“Tonight? No, not since I have arrived.” Tarn turned, and with his great height, was able to focus on the gold. “Ah, there he is, at the fore of the room. Should we…”

“I will let him know that you’re interested in his…gallery,” Thundercracker attempted to give a smile, then ducked away as quick as he could muster. He could feel Tarn’s optics upon him as he left, but tried to ignore it. It was not the first time that a bot tried to chat him up just because he was a prince, or worse, just because he was a seeker frame. But as far as mech’s go, Tarn was furthest from anything that he could possibly be interested in.

Hopefully the mech got the hint.

He pushed himself through the crowd until he reached the front of the room with Megatron’s empty throne sat upon a pedestal of stairs. However, Sunstreaker was not there. Neither was Megatron. In fact, Thundercracker couldn’t remember when he saw either last…

A hand reached out from beyond the drapery that flanked each side of the stairs, and pulled him into a servant’s corridor. It was the surprise of it that allowed him to lose his bearings, but his optics cycled down and he found himself faceplate to faceplate with the mech he had been seeking all night.

Sunstreaker.

“I found you,” Sunstreaker said softly. His optics looked over Thundercracker’s faceplates.

“Indeed,” Thundercracker murmured. Even at a low volume, his vocoder was still impossibly deep. He allowed his arms to wrap about the other, and to pull him close. Their vents exchanged air for a moment before he felt Sunstreaker’s lips brush his own. “Oh, how I have missed you…”

Sunstreaker expressed his similar sentiment by kissing him. Despite his smaller size, his strength was greater, and Thundercracker allowed himself to be pressed against the wall. He felt Sunstreaker’s tongue against the seam of his lips, and he pressed his own tongue against it, enjoying the feel of the touch…soft, wet, and sweetened with Vosnian high grade…

“And I have missed you…” Sunstreaker said once they had parted enough to allow him to speak.

A servant suddenly pushed past the drapery, and was a bit surprised to see them, before they ducked their optics and scurried off with an empty tray. They watched the bot go. Sunstreaker pulled away only a little bit. “We shouldn’t stay here. The servants are discreet, but, even they are prone to gossip.”

Thundercracker chuckled. “Out of everyone here, they are the _most_ prone to gossip. Do you have a place in mind?”

“How likely is it that Starscream will leave you alone this night?”

“Not likely.” Thundercracker frowned. He knew he would have to tell Sunstreaker that Starscream knew about them, but he did not want to break the mood between them. “Nor can I say the same of Skywarp, who is surely fighting against recharge at this very moment.”

“Then, we shall go to my rooms.” Sunstreaker grabbed up Thundercracker’s hand, and he was soon being led along the servant’s corridors. He was easily disoriented in the maze, but Sunstreaker seemed to know where he was going. They passed a few more servants who paid them no attention, although one did protest when Thundercracker grabbed up a tray of high grade from them.

The two pushed through a concealed door to Sunstreaker’s apartments with laughter on their lips which was soon silenced by kisses. They made their way into the berthroom, mixing sips of high grade with kissing, until one of them managed to place the tray on a table without spilling much. Then, one of them, neither knew who, pulled them both onto the plush berth where the high grade was forgotten. They began to reacquaint themselves with each other’s frames through their fingers on planes of plating, kisses on a wing, a thigh between parted legs.

Thundercracker groaned as a golden thigh rubbed up against his panel. He looked down at it, then at Sunstreaker under him. The mech had positioned his arms above his head, and his half-shuttered optics and parted lip plates told Thundercracker all he needed to know. Thundercracker’s hand traced down the planes of Sunstreaker’s faceplates. “I’ve missed you. I’ve _craved_ you.”

“Have you?” Sunstreaker canted his head. His thigh moved, just a bit. The heat from Thundercracker’s panel proved his words. Thundercracker shuttered his optics and moaned softly, willing to feel Sunstreaker’s touch any way he could. Sunstreaker rose up on his elbows and kissed his sparkmate, then grabbed his helm and pulled him down into the berthcovers. He rolled them, as best he could with Thundercracker’s wings – but Thundercracker knew how to read his cues by now, and moved voluntarily – and straddled the larger seeker frame so that he might press his own panel against the other’s.

“You tease me,” Thundercracker breathed. He let out another moan and ducked his head back, his fingers loose upon Sunstreaker’s thighs. Sunstreaker knew he lied. Thundercracker enjoyed the tease as much as he enjoyed the interface. They both did.

Thundercracker opened his optics to take in the sight of his sparkmate. Gold and gleaming, his form stretched back upon Thundercracker’s bent legs, as if on display. Just the sight of him was enough for the seeker. His panel slid open, and his cord pressurized between Sunstreaker’s legs.

He wanted Sunstreaker just to release his own panel there and then, but Sunstreaker could be secretly devious when he wanted. It was a side to the other that many did not see…alongside the smiles, the laughs, and the softness that seemed reserved just for Thundercracker. So Sunstreaker managed to pull away, and shimmy between Thundercracker’s legs, then ran his tongue from the base of the cord to the tip.

Thundercracker’s leg gave an involuntary jerk. “Primus, Sunstreaker.”

“Not Primus,” Sunstreaker said. He spared the cord a few more licks before taking it into his mouth. He needn’t look up to see Thundercracker’s response. He knew what to expect by now. A frame desperately trying not to move. Moans trying not to escape.

Thundercracker allowed Sunstreaker to continue for a bit, but knew he was too excited to last for long under this treatment. He reached forward and grazed his fingers along Sunstreaker’s finials, getting him to rise up from his cord, before he sat up and pulled the other into his lap.

His hand reached down the curves of Sunstreaker’s back, under his aft to his panel, which he massaged open with a few expert touches. He occupied Sunstreaker with a kiss – tongues against tongues, mouths open, just enjoying the feel of each other – and lined up his cord to ease himself inside.

Sunstreaker moaned soft against his mouth, then arched back to revel in the feel of being filled. He shifted his hips this way, that way, to create a better seat before Thundercracker’s arms braced him, and he began to ride the other.

The slide of him, in and out, but just barely due to their position, teased his sensors. He thought, this time, _I will not lose control. This time, I can finish._

But it soon became too much, and he began to lose his rhythm. Thundercracker turned them, and gently pushed Sunstreaker back into the berth, and began to thrust into him, chestplating to chestplating, mouth to mouth, fingers entwined between fingers.

Thundercracker pulled back to watch his sparkmate as he became lost to the act. His optics were shuttered, his vents holding now and again. Thundercracker kissed his lips, and was rewarded when Sunstreaker turned his head, exposing his neck cables. Thundercracker kissed them, lapped at them, as one hand pulled the golden mech’s thigh over his hips. He pushed now, deep, firm, and could feel the charge between them growing.

“I love you,” he whispered it against Sunstreaker’s jawline. “More than anything else. Above the world. Above Vos. Above the crown…”

Sunstreaker moaned his name, and his walls tightened about Thundercracker’s cord. Thundercracker rode it out with a grunt, and switched his pace. Faster. Not too fast. Sunstreaker cried out, the charge still good within him, but Thundercracker knew his lover would not rest with just one overload. He pressed in deeper, unable to hide his own groans. He felt the charge come up again, and this time, he would be spent.

He cried out, his voice booming within the room, as he spilled within his lover, who arched in the throes of another overload. He thought, it was perfect, as the overload coursed through him, causing his wings to shake, until Sunstreaker’s hands pressed into the seam of his back and wings, causing the overload to ricochet anew within him.

His vocoder fritzed, and he gave a wordless cry as Sunstreaker’s arms wrapped about him. He could feel his spend leaking out about him, making a mess that Sunstreaker was sure to loathe as soon as they came down from their high. He pressed into the other as much as he could manage before he became weak and strutless, and managed to move away before his arms collapsed on him.

Sunstreaker pressed kisses to his lips and chin, but he was still riding the overload, and could do little to respond. He found the other pressed against him when his processor could work again, and they lay there waiting for the vents to catch up.

“You made a mess,” Sunstreaker said, when he could. His vocoder was worn and tired. Content.

“_We_ made a mess.”

“If you plan to stay, and you should, you will change the berthcover first.”

Thundercracker craned his head to look down at the other. “As the prince, shouldn’t I be giving the orders?”

“It’s not a good look on you.”

And it was true. Thundercracker was never one to order another about. That was for Starscream, who had no trouble telling others what to do, how to do it, and how badly they messed up when they were done.

Starscream.

_Starscream_.

Thundercracker frowned, then began to disentangle himself from Sunstreaker. His joints were still lazy, and his arms shook when he pushed himself up. Guilt began to tear at his spark. Starscream told him, once, that he was too good to be a crown prince. He didn’t have it in him to do what was necessary to get things done, even if it meant hurting another. “I…have something to tell you, Sunstreaker.”

Sunstreaker stared up at the canopy that draped over his berth. He frowned to himself. “I have something I need to say to you as well.”

“Oh?”

“I…probably should have told you before…this.”

“I…it is the same with what I need to say.”

“Then…just say it.” Sunstreaker shuttered his optics. What was it? That he, too, was betrothed?

“I…fear you will hate me if I do.”

“Thundercracker…”

“Perhaps you should speak first.”

“Thundercracker!” Sunstreaker sat up. “What is it? Are you…are you also betrothed?”

“Betrothed?” The surprise in Thundercracker’s optics was too genuine. Besides, Thundercracker was never a good liar. His optics shifted back and forth before meeting Sunstreaker’s. “You are betrothed?”

Sunstreaker felt a rush of fear rise up from his internals and grip his sensor net. He reached out his hand for Thundercracker, but found his grasp empty, as Thundercracker stood and looked upon him in bewilderment.

“You are…promised? To another?”

Thundercracker’s hands touched his own chestplates, over his spark, as his panel returned into place.

“And…that other is not me, is it?”

Sunstreaker let his helm drop.

“No…”

“…I don’t think it is.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Worlds Upright

“You…why didn’t you tell me?” Thundercracker gaped, but Sunstreaker would not meet his optics. “How…long?”

“I have just found out today,” Sunstreaker shook his head before meeting Thundercracker’s optics. “I promise, I did not agree to this! I will talk to Megatron…I will do something to make sure that this does not come to pass!”

“How?”

“I will…tell him about us.”

“Do you think that this would move a mech like Megatron?” Thundercracker did not ask it in sarcasm. It was a genuine query…for even he knew that of all bots in the world, Sunstreaker was held dearest to his father.

“Bonds don’t last forever. They are made in agreement. No bot can be forced to give up their spark.”

“My love…” Thundercracker vented a sigh and sat on the chaise that lined one of the windows that looked out onto Kaon’s violent wasteland. “Plenty of bots have arranged bonds.”

“But they cannot be _forced_ into it.”

“What do you mean?”

Sunstreaker climbed off the berth and – with a momentary pause to find something to clean himself off with – went over to sit next to Thundercracker. He put his hands over one of the seeker’s, who stared down at it, suddenly not so sure if he was entitled to the gesture. “If I do speak to Megatron, and he does not agree with me, then I simply will not go through with it.”

“Then surely you will be disowned. Disinherited.” Thundercracker chuckled sardonically. “I know if I played the same ploy at Starscream…”

“But this is not Starscream. And Megatron has no other heirs.” Sunstreaker moved closer to the other, but did not allow their plating to touch. He knew the other. Thundercracker was not as emotional as his brother, however, he could be known to hold a grudge. He’d rather wait than act in some difficult situations. Sunstreaker did not want to press him. “He would never force me to bond to a bot if I did not want it.”

“Even so, how would you convince him?” Thundercracker moved slightly, moving his hands out from under Sunstreaker’s. To appear as if he did not repulse from the touch – which he did not – he stood and paced a bit, his thruster heels clacking on the uncarpeted parts of the ground. He turned to face Sunstreaker. “My brother has been chasing him in bond for nearly as long as I can remember. Your father is disinclined, and has not budged no matter what Starscream has thrown at him…even himself. He does not seem like a mech easily moved.”

“He isn’t, I will admit,” Sunstreaker said. “But I know when he is resolute about something and cannot be moved, and when he can. I know I can speak to him. Change his mind. I will tell him of us…of how much we mean to each other.” He stood and went to the other, and for a moment, Thundercracker did not meet his gaze. He waited until he did. “And I will tell him how much I love you. How much a bond to another bot would crush both of us.”

Thundercracker’s hand came up to touch Sunstreaker’s chin, the thumb brushing the jawline gently. “And what happens if that does not work?”

“Then…we’ll run. To Altihex. Or Polyhex. Somewhere.”

“Those are Iacon allies,” Thundercracker chuckled. “Not places where our kind our welcome.”

“Then we’ll board a shuttle and live out our days on some backwater.”

“The organic compounds would ruin your finish.”

“Then I’ll just bring extra polish with me.”

This wrought a genuine laugh from the seeker, and he found himself taking up his sparkmate’s hands to press a kiss to them. “Very well. I suppose…!”

A knock came at the large, closed doors leading into the room. By the tone of the knock, they could tell it was a servant. Thundercracker took leave to one of the side parlors before Sunstreaker opened the door, where there was indeed a servant. “Yes?”

“Lord Megatron requests your presence, My Lord.”

“Oh, yes. I will be right down.”

The servant gave a bow and left. Sunstreaker let the doors close and then waited for Thundercracker to re-emerge from the parlor. “I suppose now he will be announcing you as his official heir.”

“And thus, no going back. Go on ahead of me. It’d be a bit obvious if we returned together. I’ll go back the way we came.”

“I cannot wait for the orn when we do not have to do so much sneaking about,” Thundercracker murmured as he wrapped the other in his arms. He leaned down, meaning to only press a chaste kiss to the other’s lips, but Sunstreaker had a different thought, and pulled him in for a kiss that was sure to release his panel once more. He was released, and could not help the little step back he gave. He mumbled something about seeing Sunstreaker later that orn, then made it clumsily out the door.

Sunstreaker waited a klik after he left to let his frame sag. For a moment, he had felt that his lover had been lost to him. For a moment, the fear that nagged within the pit of his internals had almost eclipsed him. He had convinced Thundercracker of his ability to sway Megatron – somewhat. But the truth was, he had yet to convince himself.

His father was a very decisive person. And once something was decided upon, his father usually, if not always, stuck to the decision…even if that decision was wrong. His father was a mech of principle, and usually the principle being defended was his right to command. Sunstreaker knew that, if his father was truly determined to have him bond some strange bot, there was not much he could say to persuade him otherwise.

If only it were so easy to just leave. It was not the leaving part that would be so hard, even if, as Thundercracker had said, it would be hard to find a place that would accept a Kaonian Lord and a Vosnian prince.

Sunstreaker adored his father, as much as he could. Their relationship was good. It had been much better when he was younger, sure. Megatron had made sure to spend more time with him, as if he were afraid that, if he shuttered his optics, Sunstreaker would disappear. But Megatron was a busy mech. He not only ran Kaon itself, he also directed the alliance of Kaon allies.

And then there were the games.

Sunstreaker did his best to touch up his plating and reattach his cape, which had gotten lost in the berthcoverings. Perhaps bonding to a complete stranger that he did not love would be for the best. As Lord, he wouldn’t have time for domesticity. It would be the perfect excuse for not having to spend time with whoever-it-was.

No. He had to try. He vented a sigh and looked himself over. There were no signs of their interface left upon him, although his spark still seemed to reverberate with excess energy left over from the overload. But that could not be helped.

Satisfied, he turned and went out the servant’s door, and made his way through the maze of hidden corridors until he emerged from a doorway not far from the main hall. He made his way inside to see Megatron already standing close to the stairs. He made his way over swiftly – but not ungracefully – and announced himself to his father. “Forgive my tardiness, I had to…fix my plating.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge but otherwise said nothing. Sunstreaker did his best not to frown. Megatron looked away before he could say anything, and Sunstreaker could tell that something - _something_ – was on his mind. They said nothing as they ascended the stairs, and as Megatron took the throne. Every bot in the room halted their conversation and turned their optics – a sea of purple and red – to them.

Sunstreaker searched through the sea of mecha for the one he cared for mostly. He thought he spied a seeker frame, but while the plating colors could not be seen from that distance, the sneer that broke across the faceplates told Sunstreaker that it was not his lover.

Prince Starscream raised up his chin, as if he could possibly look down upon Sunstreaker, even though he stood below them. The stare gave Sunstreaker’s sensory net an unpleasant tug, and he looked away to avoid having to flare his plating to relieve the feeling.

Megatron thankfully began to speak at that moment. “Millions of vorn ago, before anyone in this room was ever sparked, Primus blessed Cybertron with life. From His own spark He pulled the first ever spark, which He infused into the raw metals that churn beneath our very pedes. It is only fitting that, when I united Kaon, that its head be Darkmount, at the center of these primordial pits. I sought to unify Kaon not only politically, but culturally, so that our legacy as a people could never be erased.

“We are the seed from which all races on Cybertron has grown. Throughout every nation and every people, you can see the traces of our very existence. To those who fly, we have given wings. To those who create, we have given vision. To those who pray and philosophize, we have given wisdom and patience. And to those who have strength, we have given our might!”

Those within the crowd who were of Kaon origin cheered the loudest, while others politely clapped. Sunstreaker looked upon Starscream again. The Prince looked off to the side as he clapped. It was obvious that he did not enjoy accrediting flight to Kaon, as the leader of a nation that was entirely made of flyers.

“The games are upon us once more. Those who wish to prove their worth as Kaonians enter their designation into the games, and only one victor may retrieve it as a victor. Each bot who participates in the games not only becomes a symbol of Kaon’s history, but of the purity of Primus’s spark with their might. For without those who are defeated, one cannot be a victor…and a victor understands that their worth is built upon those whom they crush.

“I will be presiding over the games with my son, Sunstreaker, by my side,” with that Megatron motioned to Sunstreaker, who stepped forward and gave a bow. Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd, but the tone was not negative. Sunstreaker met a few optics, and recognized a look that he often saw on Thundercracker’s faceplates.

Lust, but rawer, and without devotion. Sunstreaker wanted to turn away, but instead, he affixed his optics to the one bot that he knew would not be looking at him this way. Starscream. The mech gave an entirely different sneer…one that was the opposite of lust. Of distrust and dislike. It was a thankful reprieve.

“If you know my history, you know that my life is not a gentle one. From this ungentle life, my son has been born. Through his lines runs the same CNA as me…the same lifeblood that is prepared to uphold the principles that all Kaonians hold dear. It is because of this that I officially name Sunstreaker as my heir…the future Lord of Kaon.”

The response from the crowd was positive, with chants arising from the polite claps. _Long live Lord Sunstreaker!_

It was a bit overwhelming, to say the least. Sunstreaker bowed again and stepped back to be by his father’s side, then one more step back. While Lord in title, he was not ruler yet, and still deferred to his father’s rule. This gesture was a sign of that.

Megatron dispersed the crowd, who returned to their mingling. Some of the bots who were participating in the games made their way up to the base of the stairs to express fealty to Megatron, and some who boasted that they would be victors, dedicated their victory to Sunstreaker’s future reign.

One, a large femme, went to one knee. “I am Pulsar, My Lords. I cannot promise that I will win the games, as it is a fool who boasts victory before it is won.”

“Wise words,” Megatron said in return. “What can you promise, then?”

“I promise I will fight with every part of my being, and that my spark will spin for Kaon. And if it should be extinguished, it will be for the honor of Kaon. One cannot claim victory without the presence of defeat.”

“And what has caused you to put your name into the games? Surely living in Kaon and continuing to express oneself for the culture of Kaon is enough?”

“My Lord,” Pulsar raised her head. She was a gleaming gunmetal color, mostly, with dark and vibrant spots of blue trimming her plating. Her optics shone purple from a custom half mask of blue, while her lips and chin were the color of protoform. “I have lived my life under the principles of Kaon culture. My line, like so many, can be traced back to the very first spark. No member of my line have ever left the borders of Kaon, and have held the stand during the quintesson wars. But not one has fought within the games.”

Megatron leaned forward in his seat. “So you feel you have something to prove?”

“No, My Lord. I know my family is worth the ground on which it stands, all members. I feel I cannot call our line true of Kaon unless we participate. And thus, I have volunteered. I have waited for this time all my existence. I know that to die in the games, if I were to die, would be a good death.”

Megatron sat back. “You are a Kaon after the spark of Primus himself, then.”

“There is one other matter, My Lord,” Pulsar said, ducking her optics in another bow. “One I feel unworthy to make.”

“And what is that?”

“I understand that Lord Sunstreaker is of the age to bond,” she said. Sunstreaker balked. “I only wish that, if I am victor, that I be considered to court Lord Sunstreaker. Our lines combined we…”

“I am afraid I cannot promise that in any way,” Megatron said. “You see, Lord Sunstreaker is promised to another.”

The femme looked disappointed, but bowed once more. “Yes, My Lord. Thank you.” She stood and backed away, as if they were royalty, then disappeared into the crowd. For a moment, no one else came up to the stairs.

“Although I am glad this bonding agreement has saved me from her,” Sunstreaker said. “I wonder why you are keeping this bot a secret. Come, father, just tell me. It will sting, but at least it will not be prolonged.”

“Why are you so opposed to this, Sunstreaker?” Megatron turned to his son. Their tones were hushed so that no one else could hear. “You yourself are product of an arranged bond.”

“A failed arranged bond.”

“Yes, but that does not mean that we did not love each other.”

Sunstreaker turned his optics to his father. “Until they _left_. And I am without a carrier. You cannot even tell me who they are. Why should I follow in your footsteps?”

“Is your disinclination solely because of my history?”

Sunstreaker looked away. It was now or never. “No.”

  
“Then what. Tell me, my son.” Megatron waited as Sunstreaker thought on what he should say. He could tell that his son was afraid to speak. It was rare when this happened, but even Sunstreaker knew there were things that he could or could not say to his father. But it didn’t matter. Megatron had lived long enough to know what could plague a bot in Sunstreaker’s situation. “It is because you love another.”

Sunstreaker’s shoulders flinched minutely.

“Ah. I see.” Megatron vented a large, slow sigh. “I told you that I would not force you into a loveless bond. But I had hoped you would at least consider this mech. After all, you know them so well.”

Sunstreaker thought. There were few mechs that he knew well that were also his age. Unless Megatron meant a mech who was _not_ his age. “I do not wish to bond to an older mech, father.”

“I should think not. But I suppose it didn’t matter. I don’t know if this bond agreement will hold. It was made…when times were very different.” Megatron paused. “The mech is Prince Thundercracker, Sunstreaker.”

Sunstreaker started, then looked over at his father in utter surprise. “What?”

“I had arranged the bonding agreement when his mothers, the queens, were still alive, and when Starscream was promised to the Lord of Praxus,” Megatron grumbled low in his vocoder. “Technically, it is still a valid agreement, but, Starscream is…not his mothers…”

Sunstreaker grabbed onto his father’s arm, then his shoulder. Megatron almost leaned away with the intensity of Sunstreaker’s gaze. “You made this agreement…for me and Prince Thundercracker?”

“Yes. I figured since you were of the same age…and it happened that you were friends…”

Sunstreaker couldn’t help the smile that broke over his faceplates, and he found himself throwing his arms around his father’s neck in a hug, which he hadn’t done since he was a youngling. Megatron’s voice stuttered. “I take this as a sign that you are pleased.”

“More than pleased!” Sunstreaker stood back, and made a show of righting his cape. His spark fluttered, excitedly, as if Thundercracker were right beside him. “I…have to tell him!” He turned to look upon the crowd, but again, did not see Thundercracker.

Megatron chuckled deeply. “Am I correct to surmise that the mech you love so much is Thundercracker?”

Sunstreaker didn’t hear his father. He bounded down the steps, in search of his love.

It was good news.

Good news indeed.

…

“Something troubles you,” Starscream purred. He didn’t look at Megatron, who sat silently in the chair of his desk. Out of all the places in Darkmount – and he had seen most of them – this was his least favorite place. He looked over the giant mural of Megatron and tried his best not to sneer at it. It was pompous and ridiculous, even for Starscream’s tastes. His optics finally fell onto Megatron, who did not look up.

Starscream vented a sigh small enough to not be detected, and slowly made his way over to Megatron’s side of the desk. He didn’t miss how Megatron broke his reverie enough to glance at him as he walked. Not at his face. But at his waist. At his thighs.

Starscream leaned against the desk. He thought of sitting on it, but he figured himself a good enough judge of Megatron by now, and knew that this impertinence wouldn’t be tolerated.

“A credit for your thoughts.”

Megatron finally, finally looked up at him. Starscream crossed his arms and pushed his wings back. He didn’t particularly care what Megatron had to say, but the sooner he said it, the sooner Megatron would be done moping, and the sooner he could turn his attentions back to Starscream.

Megatron thought of disclosing the truth to Starscream, but he knew that the prince was a wily character. Any and all information he became privy to would one day be used in some way. He _was_ the former betrothed of the cunning Lord Prowl, after all. And their relationship, up until the assassinations of the Vosnian queens, had been _very good._

But he knew Starscream would weedle and pry until told something. And Starscream was pretty good at detecting a lie from a truth. So he went with a truth. “I contacted Optimus Prime today.”

“Oh?” The recoil wasn’t visible, but it was palpable. Starscream pretended to be interested in the polish on his fingertips. “To discuss the impending extinction of your bond?”

“To discuss my son.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Are there any particulars of that discussion that would put Sunstreaker’s future lordship at risk?”

Megatron grumbled. “No. But…I have not spoken to Optimus Prime in…”

“Ages, yes. Before I was sparked, even. You do like to remind me of how young I am in comparison to you. And Prime.”

Ah yes. It always came back to Starscream. Megatron sat back in his seat. A hand came up, and a fingertip threatened to trail down Starscream’s thighs, before Megatron grasped it. Starscream shifted, allowing his leg to release his weight so that it could move closer to Megatron.

“You are such a jealous mech,” Megatron murmured. “You forget who has my berth.”

“Oh, I remember well _your_ _berth_,” Starscream purred. He suddenly flinched his thigh away. “But it is not I who has your _spark_. You make a fool of me, Megatron. My subjects call for a _king_. I feel as if I am wasting my time.”

“You came to me, princeling. Not the other way around.”

“You abuse your position.”

“You forget that a berthmate does not equal a promise in Kaon,” Megatron scowled. He stood and paced his way to the windows. “Besides, I cannot trine like you might. My spark is still bound.”

“You could ease my anxieties with a bonding agreement.”

“You’re a little too old for such things. Besides. Your kingship does not rely solely on me. Your frame can hold the spark of two. Surely there is a suitor in Vos who has your eye.”

“Hmph!” Starscream rolled his optics and leaned back upon the desk, supporting himself with his arms. “Like I would dare to allow another family a claim to the throne. I’d sooner bond to a shuttle than any of those preening imbeciles. Besides. I am satisfied…mostly…with you.”

“Such a prideful thing, to know that I slake your lusts.”

Starscream tried not to roll his optics again. It was going to be one of _those_ nights. “What did the ever magnanimous Optimus have to say?”

It was Megatron’s turn to make a noise in derision. “More on the protection of our son. Our respective rights as fathers. Our son’s welfare.”

Starscream’s wings perked. “Which son?”

Megatron turned away from the window, his arms uncrossing as he looked upon the seeker.

“Oh, Megatron, please. It is my job as the leader of Vos to _know_ whatever I can. Besides, it was pretty much common knowledge before the Separatists. If you think memory of youth stays there, you forget who I am. And any dolt with a modicum of spark knowledge would know that you and Prime are incompatible…any spark created between the two of you would need to split, if it survived at all.” Starscream shrugged. “If you’re thinking that it matters to me that you have two sons, it doesn’t.”

“Good.” Megatron returned his optics to the windows. “You may be cunning, but you are not Lord Prowl. It would be best to leave my family out of any manipulations that you think you may be able to complete successfully.”

“I would never!” Starscream’s tone was not one of indignation, however. He would, ever. And he had, many times. The tone was playful. Irritatingly so.

“I need to speak with Sunstreaker,” Megatron said, abruptly. He looked to Starscream and motioned to the lift. Starscream raised his optic ridges. “I will be down before the evening closes.”

Starscream came away from the desk and sauntered towards the lift. The door opened, but before Starscream entered, he turned to view Megatron once more. Megatron had been watching him. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed.

Starscream chuckled, and disappeared as the lift doors closed behind him.


End file.
